


counting sheep

by panndulce



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, No Plot, Other Wayv members mentioned in passing, VERY loose/inconsistent knowledge on androids/tech lmao, Very light sci fi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panndulce/pseuds/panndulce
Summary: In a city far from home, Dejun gains a new roommate, a new insight, a mini-existential crisis— and Yangyang just laughs at him the entire way through.
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	counting sheep

There’s no problem, per se, with Dejun’s new roommate situation now because above all else, Dejun is very, very glad there even _is_ a new roommate in the first place.

Ten’s always been something of a wild card, but he did have the courtesy to let Dejun know he’d be moving out of their small two-bedroom apartment by the end of the month. The problem before was that Dejun didn’t really have time in one month to make new friends— Ten is about to create a full house with Sicheng and Kun to be closer to his new, fancy dance studio job downtown, and Dejun does not favor the idea of being Guanheng and Xuxi’s third wheel, so Ten is the one he needs to turn to for connections. 

Ten threw together a list of names, numbers, and social media accounts for Dejun to pour from basically every walk of life— even arranged coffee dates for them and new potential roommates, as if Ten were simply marrying off his most beloved son instead of trying to keep him off the streets. None of them really worked out— Ten assured Dejun one night after a particular failed screening that they’ll find “The One” eventually, while Dejun silently frets over maybe just being _too_ high-maintenance over a beer at one of Ten’s favorite spots.

No, he doesn’t just want to live with _anyone_ , especially anyone who proudly announces they don't know how to work a dishwasher, or someone who requests that Dejun never, never asks where they’re going after midnight— but at the end of the day, beggars can’t be choosers. With next month’s rent day looming, Dejun is _very_ close to begging. 

While Dejun wallowed a bit in his seat at the bar, Ten was busy greeting a friend he hadn’t seen in a while lately. Dejun felt a little bad for merely giving a short wave, barely glancing in the direction of this friend, but he very soon gave his full, undivided attention to this friend when his ears picked up the phrase “roommate”— “Yeah, I’ve been looking but, you know.” Ten nods understandingly and _Dejun_ doesn’t know, but he also doesn't really _care_ because this friend looks to be about his age and looks completely, wonderfully, stunningly normal.

Ten’s eyes lit up the moment realization struck him but his friend beat him to the punch, turning over to Dejun with bright eyes and a small earring dangling loosely. “You know anyone looking for a roommate?”

By the end of that month, the paperwork was sealed, so there is no problem now. Maybe just the usual tensions and growing pains of living with someone new— with a little extra added.

-

His new roommate is Liu Yangyang, and he’s an android that works at a shoe store downtown near Ten’s old dance studio, which was how they met. Maybe as expected, Dejun guessed, he has a concerningly large shoe collection that he had to lug over in several boxes move-in day, but other than that, Yangyang’s friendly and clean. And Dejun’s not hung up on the android part at all, _really_.

Obviously, Yangyang isn’t the first android Dejun’s met. Sicheng’s an android too— Hell, half the _city_ is androids, alongside all the worker droids as well, with the other half probably having at least _some_ sort of cybernetic enhancement as well. It was definitely all a little bit of a culture shock for Dejun at first, when he had moved out here from his smaller, less industrial hometown, but he got over it quickly enough with how commonplace it was. 

The boom of android creation of the last two decades was a little show to catch up in his hometown, but it was positively thriving in the larger cities, like his home now. Dejun thinks of snippets of newscasts he’s picked up while drinking his coffee in the mornings, scrolling through his phone- industry analysts and the like characterizing “second” and “third wave” androids booms, with government licenses extending to public sectors now, continuing heated debates and legislation over the responsibility and ethics of private sectors and corporations’ creation and use of androids, even beginnings talks of what a future where even civilians themselves can create androids and the heated debates over _that_ , what even _constitutes_ a—

Dejun blinks. Maybe he has picked up way more than he thought.

But either way, it really doesn’t have much to do with him— he works at a bookstore and writes music in his spare time. The extent of his knowledge of technology is working his cash register and fiddling around with free sound programs at home.

He didn’t even pick up on the fact that Yangyang is an android until he walked into the living room one day, and discovered Yangyang laying on his back on the couch, entirely too still and eyes unblinking, wide open. Dejun ventured waving a cautious hand above his face, not wanting to intrude on Yangyang’s personal spaces before he finally decides _fuck it,_ because what the _hell_ is he supposed to do if his roommate’s in a catatonic state and hasn’t _blinked_ in the past two minutes?—

Yangyang jumps, which causes Dejun to jump, hand jolting back like it’s been burnt. Yangyang stares up at Dejun for a long second, like _he’s_ the weirdo before he suddenly huffs out a laugh in understanding. “Sorry, must’ve passed out.”

“Uh.” Is Dejun’s intelligent response.

When Yangyang is going about his day, the blinking is automatic, but when he shifts into a stage two and beyond resting mode, certain functions are paused as an energy saving measure; blinking being one of them, external and internal heating being another.

“I could probably like, just close my eyes myself before I shut down or something, but honestly, I just forget.” He shrugs. He explains all this to Dejun over cup ramen at the kitchen table and Dejun accepts his explanation, knowing he should leave it there, but unfortunately he has many more intelligent responses and questions to ask.

“So you’re an android.” 

“Nah.” Yangyang doesn’t even look up from his noodles, chewing away unbothered. He then glances up after a moment and laughs right in Dejun’s face, which Dejun know he deserves because his expression must match how dumb his question was.

-

Yangyang eats and sleeps, the same way Sicheng does, the same way all androids created approximately twenty years ago do, apparently. Androids are also distinctly different from worker droids, which are actually just plain robots apparently, so Dejun doesn’t know why they just can’t say “robots”.

That’s the extent of what Dejun knows about all that, because the Wikipedia article for “android” sent him down a rabbit hole so unfathomably deep, Dejun had to force himself to close his laptop screen lest he fall in too deep. The logistics of everything surrounding the concept and existence of androids, apparently, was basically a nightmare on every level- technological, legal and bureaucratic, _ethical—_ again, _nothing_ to do with Dejun, cashier by day, wannabe songwriter by late night. Nothing he could even begin to understand, or thought too hard about before. 

But now, he’s a little curious. Yangyang is bouncy and lively every day, chatting away non-stop when he’s not working, and it’s incredibly jarring next to the cold stillness of his body when he dozes off on the couch. It’s frankly eerie, and it fills Dejun with too much guilt because he really, _really_ feels like a dick for thinking that of someone _._ Yangyang’s literally just _sleeping—_ Dejun’s probably not the most beautiful sleeper either.

(Although in Yangyang’s case, he doesn’t drool or snore, so past the whole “not blinking” deal, there is a sort of odd, striking quality to Yangyang’s completely, utterly still face— _like weird Sleeping Beauty?_ Dejun promptly tosses that thought away, out of sight, out of mind). 

So now, Dejun just finds himself wanting to know if maybe there’s anything else he should know about— not because he feels entitled to anything about Yangyang’s life, or that Yangyang somehow owes him an explanation for every tiny difference between him and Dejun’s flesh and blood, but more so that he’s simply not making Yangyang uncomfortable. Truthfully, Dejun can’t stop thinking about what a tool he must have looked like, hovering above Yangyang dumbstruck, interrupting his nap. He really, really doesn’t want to risk having his roommate feel gawked at. 

The research, however, is a complete bust, so Dejun thinks, at first, that that might be the end of that road because no way in _hell_ is he going to make himself look even more ignorant by just dumping questions on Yangyang unprompted.

An unexpected solution, however, comes in the form of _Yangyang_ ’s own curiosity. Two weeks into their new living situation, Yangyang begins asking Dejun more personal questions about his life, beyond surface level talks of work and their shared friendship with Ten, and Dejun ends up telling Yangyang about his hometown. 

“Oh, there’s like, no androids around there, huh?”

Dejun pauses mid-chew from their now almost nightly cup ramen dinner. “Er, not really honestly. Not a ton, anyway.” Yangyang nods vigorously, as if _Dejun_ was actually the one to be gawked at here. Well, he definitely deserved to have that lens turned onto him, he guessed. “You lived on a farm?”

“Not a farm, but it was a little more rural than here, yeah. I lived closer to a harbor.” Yangyang nods again, eyes wide, and Dejun doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so possibly fascinated by Dejun’s dinky little seaside town, and he probably never will again. He was beginning to realize lately there were a lot of _interesting_ quirks Yangyang possessed, completely separate from being an android.

Yangyang begins firing off questions after that— both while they’re eating, then when they’re taking out the trash, then when Yangyang is sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Dejun surfing google for free audio plugins on his laptop. In the midst of this impromptu round of twenty questions, Dejun wonders if it’s maybe okay now to ask some of his own. “Where are _you_ from?” Dejun asks.

“Next town over.” Yangyang replies. Not quite what Dejun meant, but it’s the _correct_ answer. Dejun ducks his head in embarrassment, and Yangyang’s his lips quirk up in a smile. “Sorry. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I kinda can’t help but crack up at your face.” Dejun thinks whatever face he was making just contorted into something even dumber now, because Yangyang actually _does_ start cracking up now. 

“Dude, if you wanna ask me about any android stuff, just ask. As long as you’re not weird or anything.” 

“Really?” Dejun asks, just to be sure, and Yangyang shrugs. “I’m asking about you, only fair you can do the same with me. We’re friends, right?” Dejun blinks at this, a little surprised, but the surprise is definitely welcome. “Yeah, friends.” Yangyang grins, and Dejun thinks about how much warmer his face looks like this.

-

Yangyang spends a lot of time lounging around on the living room couch when he gets off work. “Easier access.” He explains, laying down and pointing to the small television screen and small gaming console right next to it on the floor. He has a decent point, so soon enough, Dejun’s pulled out of his room most nights as well, sitting on the floor against the couch, typing away while he and Yangyang continue their new pass time of rapid-fire questioning.

“Okay. Do you ever have to...charge or anything?”

“Mm, nah. You ever ride a tractor before?”

“No?” Dejun frowns. 

“Oh, okay, so _my_ question was the stupid one.”

“You said no judgement…” Dejun grumbles and turns away from Yangyang flicking the back of his head and laughing, _again_.

Despite the nonstop teasing Yangyang revels in, it’s through this method that Dejun gets a lot of random questions answered. For example, Yangyang doesn’t _technically_ need to eat, but he _can_ , and he has what are effectively taste buds, so he can actually enjoy it ( _and enjoy it he does_ , Dejun thinks as he watches Yangyang devour _his_ stash of chips). Apparently, the food either incinerates inside him completely or is converted into some useable form of energy for him— Dejun’s not actually too clear on this part because one, he sometimes can’t quite tell when Yangyang is joking or not, and two, in the words of Yangyang himself when asked to expand upon this concept: “Dude I don’t know, I’m not a fucking electrician or whatever.”

Dejun thinks it’s weird at first that Yangyang wouldn’t know these things about himself, but like with a lot of things, it turns out, Yangyang has a talent for turning things around on him. Yangyang asked a pretty silly question about Dejun’s hometown, so Dejun thinks he probably gets a pass to ask a dumb one of his own. “What’s your hair made of?”

“I think like some sort of fiber optics or something.” Yangyang shrugs.

“How do you not know?” Dejun asks a little too incredulously, and he’s now officially pushed the dumb question limit, judging from Yangyang’s dismissive scoff. “Well, what’s _your_ hair made of? You know your genome off the top of your head? All your amino acids or whatever-“

“Okay, _okay_ ,” Dejun concedes defeat and sulks the rest of the day, partially because he’s been scolded like a petulant child, but mostly because he’s overstepped boundaries he didn’t want to at all.

Later that night, he places a simple plate of food he attempted to cook beside Yangyang without a word and cleans up after both of them in silent apology. He’s wracking his mind as he’s washing the dishes for the right words to properly apologize with for being an ignorant ass _once_ again, when he suddenly feels a warm presence behind him, peering over his shoulder. There’s a quiet sound he hasn’t heard before, right by his ear— a soft whirring that makes him jump, sponge in hand, and causes water droplets to flick onto Yangyang’s hand. 

“ _Dejun_ .” Yangyang gasps loudly, eyes wide and hand shaking- no, _twitching_ , and Dejun thinks he might pass out right then and there. “What have you _done—_ don’t you _know anything_ about androids and _water—_ “

“Oh my God, Yangyang I’m _so sorry, I—_ “

“ _Pffft_.” The same hand that was twitching wildly smacks Dejun’s shoulder hard and Dejun thinks he might pass out, again, but for different reasons now.

“I’m just fucking with you, dude.” Dejun knows he must have that pathetic expression again by how much harder Yangyang’s laughing at him now, but he finds he can’t really be too annoyed at the situation.

“That’s what you get for asking stupid questions. Thanks for the food though. I appreciate it.” Yangyang wipes away tears from his eyes, maybe ( _can he tear up? Do NOT_ _ask him that_ ), and now Dejun _really_ can’t be annoyed because it _is_ what he gets, but he’s also beginning to think it’s a little hard to stay too mad at Yangyang’s smile.

-

(“Dude, did you think I just don’t shower or something?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. Just assume I don’t think at all, ever.” Yangyang laughs, again.)

-

“Why’d you move out here?” Yangyang lying on the couch as usual a month and a half in, legs propped up against the back of the couch, his head hanging upside down next to Dejun, sitting on the floor as usual, doing nothing in particular on GarageBand. Dejun marvels a bit at how long Yangyang’s been able to hold that position until he remembers there’s not actual blood rushing to his head. 

“College. I actually considered going back home afterwards my first year, but I ended up just staying with Ten instead.” Yangyang nods. Yangyang himself has put a pause on his higher education, mostly to pick up more hours at work to save up for textbook money. “There’s grants and stuff out there for androids only but shit’s expensive even with that.” He says, fingers grazing the carpet. “Tell me about it.” Dejun grumbles at the sight of that carpet and the entirety of the apartment itself, likely last renovated centuries ago. 

“Would you ever go back now?” Yangyang asks, and Dejun shakes his head. “Not to live there, but I try and visit once a year at least. Holidays and stuff.” A pause, before: “How about you?”

“I wouldn’t move back, probably.” Yangyang says, shifting around onto his stomach, arms still hanging off the front of the couch. “It’s not like I lived that far away from here anyway, so it’d be easy to just take a train over if I needed to see my creator or something.” 

Dejun pauses again before nodding, but Yangyang’s considering him out of the corner of his eyes. “Technically, your parents are your creators too.” 

“I know that…”

“You haven’t asked any more android questions, what’s up?” His hand nudges at Dejun’s shoulder, almost coaxing. “I figured you’d probably be tired entertaining grade-level questions about it by now.”

From where Dejun looks up slightly, Yangyang’s eyes curve into a smile, just covered by the couch cushions. “I don’t really mind it from you honestly. Like, I actually would be annoyed usually, but I don’t really know why I’m not too much with you.”

Those eyes flick up towards the ceiling before they curve again, and Dejun watches the motion with strange fascination. “Probably stopped annoying me when I found you’re like a country hick. Probably never even met an android before me, huh?”

“I’m not—“ Dejun gives up before he even really begins because Yangyang’s already giggling, eyes a perfect crescent moon.

“I’ve met plenty of other androids.” He defends limply.

“No duh.” Yangyang finally sits up in a normal position, looking down at Dejun. “But it actually is okay. You apologized for being dumb and it wasn’t really that big a deal anyway. Trust me, people that aren’t _even_ friends have asked way dumber questions.” It’s Yangyang’s turn to pause now before he continues. “That’s kinda why I like it more here anyway. There’s androids and stuff over at my hometown, but it’s kinda just different there.”

“Oh...why’s that?”

Yangyang shrugs. “There’s a lot of worker droid manufacturing places there. Lot of like, industrial stuff for enhancements I think too. You’d think people would catch on already to worker droids being actual like, normal robots and androids being _androids_ but.” He shrugs again. 

It strikes Dejun at this moment then, Yangyang’s choice of words— _creator_. Dejun’s made a very conscious effort to try and not compare almost anything Yangyang says or does relating to being an android to things he knows about Sicheng, mostly since it just seems wildly ignorant and presumptuous, and also because he really could not ever connect a similarity between laid-back, polite Sicheng and. _Yangyang._ But the passing, off-handed memories of Sicheng mentioning calling his parents, visiting his parents, talking about his parents— _parents_ , pop into his head.

He’s not going to do or assume anything with this parallel, other than simply acknowledge that it’s been made, and perhaps, one day when they’re closer, he can draw or discard a connection.

(He’s also not going to do anything about the small spark of something that lights up in his stomach, at the thought of one day, _closer_.)

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be.” Yangyang smiles. “It’s really not that big a deal. Just comes with the territory of being the next step in evolution and like, better than humans or whatever.” He shrugs, then stretches his arm widely, and Dejun feels conflicted about his fascination with the way Yangyang moves, body stretching and flexing with the elasticity and weight of his own flesh and blood. He feels really gross for gawking at him like this, so he thinks back instead to the androids that actually _did_ live in his hometown. The few he did know back home were older models of an older generation, who came to settle down at the sleepy port by the sea, much like many older humans did as well.

A thought strikes him, again, that he should maybe tell Yangyang about these androids— so he does. Yangyang seems quite happy and even more fascinated, telling Dejun that he has to take him with him, back to his hometown the next he goes back to visit. It’s amusing, because Dejun’s quite literally never met anyone who’s had any interest in visiting his hometown— with good enough reason, he supposes, despite him thinking that it had its own little charms. (Dejun thinks it would still probably be fun to go with Yangyang either way. _Closer_.)

Everyone back home had worked and lived alongside each other easily, and he thinks back to a younger Dejun, who would watch older androids hand him fruit and candy at markets with a smile that contorted just the tiniest bit unnaturally at the crinkles of the eyes and lips. He thinks now, though, that it’s probably not productive or useful, or just plain right or _nice_ or _anything_ to think “unnatural”. It was simply different. 

“What do you think about humans?” Dejun asked, not entirely on purpose. “I don’t.” Yangyang answers, finishing his long stretch.

“What, you guys think you’re so important?” Yangyang asks, slumped over and amused clearly. “Don’t worry, I’ve had a ton of stupid questions about you guys too.” He grins widely, until it drops to something still amused, but subdued.

“If you really think too hard on it though, you’ll just give yourself a headache. I think you think too hard, honestly. You should stop.”

“Stop...thinking?”

“Yeah.” Yangyang nods, clearly satisfied with this solution. Dejun does not feel quite as satisfied, and it’s probably showing on his face.

“I’m not a philosopher, and I know you like reading your books or whatever, but I’m pretty sure you’re not either.” Dejun wants to argue that point just a little, but decides not to. “So I mean, who really cares, right?” With that, Yangyang hops off the couch to switch on the game console and stick a controller on Dejun’s hand, expectant. Dejun accepts, confused but ultimately fine with it for now as he beats Yangyang in one round, but later accepts defeat at the loss of his high score. 

Dejun watches from the side the curve of Yangyang’s eyes and lips again as he smiles as they play together, and he can’t help compare it to his own, staring at his face in the bathroom mirror later, stretching and pulling his face over and over again to watch the creases push and pull. He immediately stops and freezes when Yangyang catches on his way to brush his teeth, the unfortunate outcome of a shared bathroom. 

“Having fun?” Yangyang asks as Dejun just pouts, knowing the laughter is coming. It does. “I’d probably be staring in the mirror all the time too, if I had your face.” He shrugs then laughs _again_ at Dejun’s reaction, and it forces Dejun out the bathroom so he doesn’t have to look at the red blooming on his cheeks. He still can’t really tell when Yangyang’s joking around sometimes. He also thinks the difference between their faces is that Yangyang’s eyes and smile are way more charming than his own, or most people, human or android, he knows. 

-

“You ever get one?” Yangyang points at a kiosk on the walk back home from the corner market.

“ _Enhancements, Fast and Legal_ — yeah, no.” Yangyang laughs at Dejun’s deadpan answer. “You do what you gotta do, you know. Money’s tight.” Rent’s day just passed again, and the reminder alongside the cup ramen they’re lugging in grocery bags run extra salt at the mutual wound. 

“Probably wouldn’t be getting enhancements then if that were the case.” Dejun dismisses, judging the sign again. Cosmetic cybernetic enhancements had been around for a long while now, but they were definitely having a moment of sorts in the bigger cities. It was nearly impossible to scroll through Instagram without some unnaturally beautiful model slash influencer hawking new shifting eye colors, or shiny chips in teeth and eye and ears that came with alerts for their next check-ups or _whatever_ — _functionable and fashionable!_ _Swipe up!_

“They used to be just for actual medical purposes, you know.”

“How ‘Old Man Yelling at Cloud’ of you, Dejun. What, you’re that scared of the future? Blurring the lines between human and _machine?_ ” Yangyang, perhaps a little ironically, does a terrible rendition of the robot.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dejun says through his laugh. “ _That’s_ the one thing we don’t have at all back home. Too much of a country hick to accept it just yet.”

He knows that’s there probably _some_ use in certain cosmetic enhancements, the way there’s some use in every menial phone update, but it’s just another aspect to big tech, big city life fraught in legal and regulatory issues— nothing to do with him again, other than side-eye a $45 cybernetic eye replacement offered at the back alleys of their neighborhood.

Tonight, Yangyang’s not actually lounging on the couch but stretched out on his back instead, right next to Dejun on the floor against the couch. “I’m probably gonna pass out soon.” He announces, and Dejun turns in time to notice him close his eyes. “What if I told you I could see through my eyelids. With my x-ray vision.” Wiggling fingers punctuate this claim.

“I wouldn’t believe you, like with most things.” Yangyang laughs softly, eyes still closed. “Ahh, you’re no fun anymore.”

“You don’t have to close your eyes, if you don’t want to.”

“Makes no difference to me.” Yangyang says, then pauses. “I know you’re kinda creeped out when they’re open, so.” 

“I’m really not.” There’s an apologetic edge to Dejun’s voice he really hopes Yangyang can hear. He does think that maybe, at some point before, he might have found the stillness of Yangyang’s body while carrying conversation a little weird, even with his eyes closed, but looking down at him now, it’s simply just another Yangyang quirk. Another odd charm. 

With Yangyang’s eyes closed, Dejun’s free to stare down at the pores and faint smile lines embedded in his skin. He can’t help but wonder how they came to be, the level of detail put into the canvas of his face. He’s learned that a lot of the features of androids at this point are randomly generated, more or less. It’s better this way, Dejun thinks, than to think of someone having the ability to mold and shape a life the exact way _they_ would personally like, completely removed from the android’s own, eventual wishes.

Again, falling down that rabbit hole wasn’t viable at the moment with the migraine he felt developing at the _ethics_ of it all, but it still had him wondering, had him turning the lens onto himself. He really does stare at his own face and body a lot more now, based on the weird looks he gets from customers when he’s caught staring a little too hard at his own hand during downtime. He finds himself thinking, thinking more of _everything_ now— he thinks about his own parents, his own town, his own past and future lineage, his own sense of time and self, his own organs and tissue and blood rushing, bodily functions and everything in between and—

“ _Shut up_.” Yangyang says with no venom, eyes peering up at him just the slightest. “Can’t sleep with how hard you’re thinking.”

Dejun stares right back down at him again, eyes meeting this time. No matter how it came to be, biological or manmade, or if even it really mattered at all, he realizes that Yangyang’s face is pretty. He’s not going to gawk at him like he’s some sort of science experiment or thought puzzle to be figured out ever again, but Dejun thinks he’d probably still stare, for different reasons. 

Yangyang’s eyes open just a little more to stare back him before they curve again into a different kind of smile, one that felt like he was in on a secret that Dejun wasn’t quite yet.

-

“Do you dream?” Dejun asks. 

“Here we go…”

“Sorry, _sorry_.” From his position on the ground next to the couch, it almost looks like he’s bowing for forgiveness, so Yangyang just flicks his forehead. “You’re so... _mushy_ , you know. But I do sometimes, yeah.”

The question Dejun’s dying to ask next must be so obvious in his eyes because Yangyang laughs his usual laugh. “I don't remember a ton of them honestly. I think I probably dream less than most humans. Definitely less than you.” He teases lightly, before continuing.

“If I had to guess just to shut you up, it’s probably something to do with electrical currents in my chip. Same thing as your brain.” He flicks at Dejun’s forehead, again. “Now put something on Netflix.”

“I guess I do dream a lot.” Dejun says suddenly, right in the middle of Great British Bake Off. Yangyang laughs from above, and Dejun tosses a pillow at him.

“Sorry, you’re just always...funny.” Yangyang offers with a grin and no further explanation. “What do _you_ dream about?”

“Anything, I guess. Sometimes it’s full blown scenarios, and sometimes it’s just more random scenes and colors I can’t really piece together, like. Vignettes.”

“Oh my _god._ ” Yangyang groans, accepting the pillow thrown at him again. “ _Vignettes_.” He mocks in a higher pitch.

“I know you’re tired of me talking all the time but it’s just— it’s just stuff I’ve been thinking about lately, okay?”

  
And it’s the truth, but not the entire truth. Dejun’s thinking of dreams, and the connections made in them, to bridge the gap between him and Yangyang, but not in his usual way this time, his whole little _humans and androids aren’t so different after all_ kind of way. More in the way he can’t entirely make sense of it, but it’s definitely more just about the two of _them—_ the way Yangyang’s been showing up in Dejun’s own dreams more and more, charming smile and laugh and all.

“I get it, I get it.” Yangyang relents, holding the pillow tightly against him now. “I’m not tired of you talking.” This time, it’s him breaking the silence of the living room after a long moment. “You’re really annoying sometimes, but I’m not tired of you talking. I like it.”

Dejun stares up at him, eyes entirely fixated on Yangyang’s own, flicking up to the ceiling again in thought.

“Actually, you know what. I _am_ tired of you talking. I told you before you should just stop thinking too hard about these things, but now look at you. Calling your dreams fucking _vignettes_.” 

“I-“ Dejun begins, mouth dry, scared to overstep into an entirely new boundary now, but the words spill out anyway, messy and as fumbling as he’s always been— for different reasons. “My dreams...they might not be exactly about what you’re thinking. I mean, not— I was asking about you because I was _was_ curious— _sorry_ , but I mean, _my_ dreams are. They’re actually about you. Not in, like...the way I keep asking about— but not _weird, either! Just—_ ” 

Yangyang looks down at him suffering for only a moment longer, before he’s suddenly off the couch entirely. He’s close— closer than ever before, close enough now that Dejun can hear a soft whirring he thinks he’s picked up on once before, the sound from when Yangyang first popped up behind him, teasing him and embarrassing him, but somehow captivating him all the same?

He’s trapped underneath Yangyang’s legs straddling his waist, arms caging him on either side, and the face Dejun’s gazed at in reality and in his dreams comes close, close enough for him to reach out and touch. He does, hesitantly— blurring the line of dream to reality, wondering for just a moment if the sensation beneath his fingers is real. The whirring and Yangyangs’s eyes, pupils pure black in a way he’s never seen in a person, anchor him. Surer, conscious, _real_ , Dejun’s hands run through the smooth warmth of his cheeks and his hair and the softness of his bottom lip, and all of it together is simply Yangyang. 

“Stop thinking.” Yangyang whispers close— commands a breath away, so Dejun stops.

-

There’s new tensions to deal with now, but Dejun welcomes them much more than the fumbling cluelessness of before. He figures, at least, he won’t have to worry about needing to find a new roommate again anytime soon.

Yangyang presses onto Dejun’s side, arms wrapped tightly around his waist on their fancy, new, slightly larger couch that they managed to save upfor. Dejun felt the slightest bit sad to see the old one go, sentimental memories made with it and all, while Yangyang, the perpetual couch lounger, all but kicked it to the curb entirely.

He also _did_ laugh at Dejun’s wistful gaze watching someone picking up the couch from outside their building to take to their own home, but the way Yangyang pinches his cheeks and nuzzles into his side now to annoy him is cuter than the forehead flicks and finger pointing before, so Dejun’s fine with it, he _guessed_. 

“I’m glad you’re warm enough for the both of us. There’s still use for you humans after all.” Yangyang says, eyes closed contentedly as Dejun scoffs.

“Shouldn’t you actually worry about overheating?” A small and sharp jab to Dejun’s side ends the debate, with Dejun just choosing defeat, carding fingers through his hair instead. 

In the quiet of the living room, Dejun can hear his own steady breathing mixed with the soft whirring sound close to his ear. “Cooling down my CPU.” Yangyang explains, face pressed against Dejun’s neck. “You can just think of it as like breathing if you want.” 

“Makes no difference to me.” Dejun replies and feels Yangyang’s smile bloom across his skin. The sound soon lulls Dejun to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> something quick-ish and random, kinda just...because ? lol i wanted to try my hand at writing about a topic/genre i usually never do, but like with most things, it just became more of a vehicle for my real default setting (~feelings~ with a dash of psuedo-intellectualism). maybe one day hopefully i’ll do these sci fi elements more justice! forgive my incredibly cursory knowledge on all things tech and world building please and thank you for reading ❤️❤️❤️


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